


A Place to Stand

by linndechir



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Kingsguard!verse, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never needed words to understand each other, though Jon wasn't sure if that made it harder or easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Some context for this scene: this is set in a happy future in which Stannis took the Iron Throne and made Jon Lord Commander of his Kingsguard after the war against the Others. That's really all you need to know. Some day I'm going to write the long version of this verse, rather than just short scenes. No real spoilers for anything.

Jon straightened his back as he watched – tried not to watch – his king undress. Stannis disliked having servants around him all day, and he only ever let his squires help him dress and undress when he was wearing armour. Jon was quiet. He knew that the last thing Stannis needed after a long day was more talking.

He wasn't happy, Jon knew. Wasn't happier as king than he had been fighting for the throne. Jon had heard Lord Tyrell grumble a while back, complaining, wondering why Stannis had even fought so hard for a throne that didn't seem to bring him any joy now that he had it. Lord Tarly had replied that it must have been a matter of pride, of principle, that a man like Stannis Baratheon wouldn't just back away from his rights. Jon had smiled. They all didn't understand. It had never been about happiness nor even so much about his rights for Stannis, but about duty. The throne was his duty, and Stannis Baratheon was not a man to leave his own burdens to others.

Remembering that helped Jon whenever he missed the North, whenever the intrigues of the court made him wish he had remained a simple man of the Night's Watch. Just like the king belonged to the realm, Jon belonged to his king. His place was where Stannis went, whether it was the Wall during the war, King's Landing now, or even Storm's End that one time he had accompanied Stannis to his family's castle. His joyless, dour king had become as much his home as Winterfell or the Wall had once been. Maybe even more so, because unlike his family and unlike the Night's Watch, Stannis truly wanted him. Jon was here because Stannis had chosen him, not because he had nowhere else to go.

He averted his eyes from Stannis' bare chest. Once he had looked away for fear of Stannis noticing his thoughts, but it was almost worse now, knowing that Stannis knew, knowing that his king might not even forbid him to look. There was a quiet understanding between them about this thing, whatever it was, an understanding that they both wanted the same, but that it would never happen. That it wouldn't even be mentioned.

"You're quiet today," Stannis observed when he was done changing. He took a sip of lemon water from his cup, blue eyes meeting Jon's in the dim light of his bed chambers.

"I did not wish to disturb you, Your Grace."

"It wouldn't hurt me to hear something sensible at least once a day," Stannis snorted. Jon would have smiled at the grumpy tone, but he knew that Stannis was more discontent than usual. Lord Davos had been gone for two weeks now, tending to his lands and visiting his family. Stannis missed his Hand sorely, Jon knew, a void that even Jon's presence couldn't fill.

"Something sensible, Your Grace, would be for you to get some rest." Jon made sure not to sound too worried, knowing that Stannis hated that. His king slept only a few hours every night, and restlessly at that. Sometimes Jon wished he could just stay with him for the night, some childish part of him hoping that his presence alone would soothe Stannis' nightmares and concerns, but he could very well imagine his king's reaction if he ever suggested it. The mocking words, the insulted tone asking if he was a little child who couldn't be left alone in the dark.

For once Stannis didn't argue with him. There was a knock on the door before Jon could say any more. Ser Rolland Storm, come to relieve Jon for the night. The King's Bastards, some people called them, and the disrespect, not towards them, but towards Stannis, always made Jon bristle. But of course those lordlings would complain about Stannis' choosing two bastards for his Kingsguard, picking them over the trueborn sons of great houses. Ser Rolland would stay outside and guard the door for the night, while Jon would return to the White Tower. Truth be told, he needed the rest himself. Keeping up with Stannis was no easy task.

As if he hadn't heard the knock, Stannis walked over to Jon, standing too close to him, nothing inappropriate, but just a bit closer than he stood to other people. It always made Jon's heart jump a little, with a mixture of fear and awe and longing. 

"You look tired," Stannis said, his voice the smallest bit softer than before. Such a meaningless little sentence, but coming from Stannis it meant so much more. Meant that he had even bothered to look, bothered to notice, bothered to care. On most days, Stannis looked at him the way he looked at a subject, a servant, a knight sworn to him by duty. Sometimes he seemed to see a trusted advisor in him, maybe even a friend, and then there were those moments in which Stannis looked at him like a man, full of a longing he would never admit to. 

But it were these moments Jon cherished most, when Stannis looked at him like a father would look at his son, stern, but concerned, caring. Like Jon mattered to him beyond being a loyal knight and advisor. Jon wanted to say something, wanted to touch Stannis, but he did not want to risk getting pushed away. So he bit back his smile and met Stannis' eyes, calm and serious, just quietly showing that he understood all the words Stannis left unspoken. This was all they would ever allow themselves, but it was enough, because somewhere between looks and half-sentences and unsaid words, they understood each other.

It had to be enough.

His king nodded and stepped away. 

"I will see you in the morning, Ser Jon." 

"Your Grace." Jon bowed and turned to leave. The dismissal had been as harsh as always, all warmth gone from Stannis' voice. Yet he felt his king's eyes following him, and allowed himself to smile.


End file.
